


Masterwork

by phnelt



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Humour, Jaskier is a master bard, M/M, he gets an apprentice, shenanigans ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22234240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phnelt/pseuds/phnelt
Summary: “Master Jaskier, please meet your apprentice. Valdemar, do try to contain yourself.” Master Juhani looked at Jaskier’s expression and coughed. “Surely you remember the duties of a Master, Jaskier.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 60
Kudos: 847





	Masterwork

“We’ll meet up at the Seven Swans tavern in two days, alright?” Jaskier said, cheerily waving goodbye to Geralt as Geralt tied up Roach. Geralt gave him a grunt, which Jaskier took as a _yes, very excited to catch up later._

Jaskier would have tagged along with Geralt, but unfortunately being a Bard did come with some responsibilities and one of those was regularly checking in with the Bard College to keep his Guild membership up to date. 

When he walked inside, eyes adjusting to the light, he was greeted to the sight of Grand Master Juhani reaching out to him with open arms. “Master Jaskier!” Juhani called out, as heads turned to look. The room started whispering and Jaskier’s finely honed flight instinct started to kick in. 

“Master?” He asked weakly, edging backwards. This was clearly some enchantment. He needed Geralt. 

“Was it not your intention to have your epic, ‘The White Wolf,’ considered as your masterwork?” Juhani had his eyebrow raised and Jaskier felt himself rapidly catching up with the situation. 

“Ah, yes, my masterwork.” Wait, did this mean… Jaskier straightened. “A Master? Really?” Jaskier felt giddy. He was young for it, but it had always been his ambition to reach Master status as a Bard. 

“Apparently,” Juhani said. “Valdemar!” He called, and a young boy fell out of the crowd, pink cheeks glowing in the low light. “Bow to Master Jaskier, Valdemar.” 

The boy bowed, nearly tripping over himself. Baffled, Jaskier bowed in return, with his usual flourishes. 

“Master Jaskier, please meet your apprentice. Valdemar, do try to contain yourself.” Master Juhani looked at Jaskier’s expression and coughed. “Surely you remember the duties of a Master, Jaskier.” 

Faintly, Jaskier did remember that it was the duty of Masters to take on apprentices and guide them into becoming journeymen. He remembered his own master, a crusty old man who worked out of the court of a minor lord in Redania. The most boring year of his life. 

Jaskier stared at Valdemar and when he looked up to plead with Juhani -- he was not ready to take an apprentice, surely that was an honour reserved for more established Bards. However, he discovered that Juhani had already melted back into the crowd, leaving the two of them alone. He looked down at Valdemar, trying to assess his mettle. Valdemar smiled back, gap-toothed and wobbling around the edges. 

*** 

Two days later, when Jaskier met up with Geralt, he was ready to have a fit. 

“He’s an infant with no knowledge of the world. If I take him out on the road, he is going to die, or worse yet, ruin my reputation,” Jaskier was hissing, he was so mad. 

Geralt’s eyes flicked to Valdemar’s. “He’s also sitting right there.” 

“I’ll say it to his face.” To prove it, Jaskier turned and faced him. “It’s a mistake to bring you on the road and you’ll never make it as a Bard.” 

“Whatever you say, Master Jaskier,” Valdemar said, and went back to staring at Jaskier with shining eyes. 

“See?” Jaskier said, eyes narrowed. “See what I have to put up with?” 

“Yes,” Geralt said, and Jaskier had the horrible suspicion he was amused. “Truly terrible.” Then Geralt’s lip twitched. The betrayal! 

“Well, I shall just have to get rid of him,” Jaskier said, voice airy. 

Geralt was looking up and down, with extremely unfair suspicion. “How do you do that?” 

“A Master can release their apprentice after they complete a suitably advanced work.” Jaskier turned to Valdemar. “Do you have any ideas for a song?” 

Valdemar just shook his head slowly, eyes wide as dinner plates. 

“No matter, we’ll just have to give you something to sing about.” 

“Hm,” Geralt said. 

*** 

Travelling on the road with Valdemar was an unmitigated disaster so far. The boy had fallen off the edge of the road into a gully, becoming ensnared on small branches that Geralt had to hack away, only to reveal a drowner. 

A damp, muddy, drowner guts covered Valdemar emerged, slung over Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Valdemar!” Jaskier shouted. “Where is your lute?” 

“I protected it, Master Jaskier! That’s why my face got so scratched up.” 

Jaskier gave him a grudging nod of approval. 

Geralt glared at him. 

“What?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt ignored him, instead helping Valdemar up into Roach’s saddle. 

“He gets to ride the horse?” Jaskier did not screech, his voice was too resonant. 

“He was attacked by drowners.” Geralt gave Roach a nudge and they started walking down the road. 

“One drowner! I was attacked by several drowners last week,” Jaskier said, ignoring Valdemar’s whimper, “and you told me to walk it off.” 

Jaskier would never know what Geralt would have responded with because Jaskier realised that Valdemar was trying to sing. A small ditty about being rescued by a shining white knight. 

Jaskier shuddered. He’d written something less insipid as a toddler. 

He called out, “That is terrible! You cannot describe Geralt as _glowing_.” 

Geralt’s lips were twitching again. “Maybe I am glowing, huh? You should put that in your songs.” 

*** 

Things came to a head when their camp was attacked by Nightwraiths. 

Their screeching filled the air, startling Jaskier out of his slumber and he lurched towards the fire, lighting a branch on fire and staying where Geralt could see him. 

Geralt for his part had lunged towards Valdemar and dragged him next to Jaskier before turning to dispatch the Nightwraiths. 

As always, Geralt was poetry in motion, blades whirling faster than the eye could see. 

“Wow,” Valdemar muttered, and Jaskier hated to agree with him about anything so he just said, “Hm,” before realising how much like Geralt he sounded. 

Then the wraiths were dead. 

“Burn the bodies,” Geralt growled, throwing flint at Jaskier. 

Jaskier hastened to obey, grabbing some kindling and logs from the pile at the edge of camp. 

Jaskier had built a moat of moss around the body and was sparking the flint when he looked over to see Geralt kneeling next to Valdemar, speaking to him in low tones and clapping him on the shoulder. 

Job forgotten, Jaskier threw the flint to the ground. 

“No! This I will not tolerate!” 

Valdemar flinched and Geralt had to grab him before he fell into the fire. Jaskier saw red. 

“You cannot come into my life and take everything that is mine. You take my time? Fine. You sit on Roach? Fine. But you cannot have him! Geralt is mine!” Jaskier was panting. 

Geralt stood up slowly and took a step towards Jaskier. “Sounds like we’re working under some sort of misapprehension here.” 

Jaskier pointed a finger. “That harlot is making moves on you and you’re letting him!” 

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s because I like _Valdemar_ so much that I let you drag him on the road with us.” 

Jaskier, who had worked up a pretty good head of steam by this point felt rather like he was running and had somehow missed a stair. “Wait -- that is -- you mean to say?” Then he descended into inarticulate noises of confusion. 

“Yeah,” Geralt said and the tone was so fond that Jaskier could not help but throw himself at Geralt who easily scooped him up. The rest, as they say, was silence and falling rain. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Because Valdemar was watching them. “Don’t mind me!” he squeaked, but Jaskier very much did mind. Jaskier was not opposed to an audience, necessarily, but very much was against this one. 

He let Geralt ravage his mouth for a moment -- maybe two moments -- more before he insisted on being let down. 

Valdemar’s disappointed whine would haunt his dreams. 

*** 

Jaskier supposed it was worth it when a few days later Valdemar came up to him, shy, and performed his new work, a love story of the White Knight and his loyal follower. 

He wanted to hate it on premise alone -- Geralt was clearly following _him_ , but he found himself nodding along at the second stanza. 

“This isn’t terrible,” he grudgingly admitted, and Valdemar threw himself at Jaskier, pulling him into a fierce hug. 

“You really think so?” Valdemar was glowing again. 

“Yes, well, I suppose,” Jaskier said, bemused. 

*** 

They dropped Valdemar back at the city gates to the tune of him professing his undying gratitude and loyalty. 

“I’ll tell everyone what a great Master you are!” Valdemar promised. 

“No, no, I’d rather you didn’t,” Jaskier tried to insist, but Valdemar just dimpled his cheeks and scampered off. 

Jaskier turned back to Geralt who was watching him shrewdly. “So how long before they send along a new one?” 

“New plan!” Jaskier said, holding up one finger. “They have to catch me first.” 

Turning towards the horizon, he started marching off, smiling when he heard the jangle of Roach’s tackle joining him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Toss a comment, etc.
> 
> Also! If you liked this, consider reblogging: [here](https://tmblr.co/ZD3Daw2nBT50n)


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